


Divine is the Effort to Love Him

by GodShatteringStar (TerraCrystallis), TerraCrystallis



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Battle, Co-workers, Drunkenness, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route Spoilers, Fluff and Smut, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Male My Unit | Byleth, Male Slash, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Sexuality Crisis, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:07:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22325287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerraCrystallis/pseuds/GodShatteringStar, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerraCrystallis/pseuds/TerraCrystallis
Summary: A M/M Claudeleth fic. The Professor knows his feelings - the Golden Deer can't even begin to process what might be his own. Slow Burn(ish) and worth it. [Hiatus because school - I'm so sorry!!]
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth & Claude von Riegan, My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 11
Kudos: 64





	1. In His own Right

Claude played with two of the war-board pieces, one following the other across a secluded river etched into the wood. Laughing as he knocked both of them down, he reached over the table to snatch some grapes.

“Well--I can’t possibly irritate you more, I’m afraid...giving all my failed stories of Guerilla Warfare.”

“I could’ve written a book by now,” Byleth replied, sipping from his sturdy tankard of burgundy liquid.

“I’m surprised you haven’t raided Lady Rhea’s fine silverware cabinet yet. She only drinks during Goddess Festivals, or so I’m told, but... _I’ve_ yet to see it, anyway.”

“A little peculiar, isn’t it? Not to let her guard down and enjoy what she claims to be the year’s most _joyous_ festivities.”

“Well, aren’t they?” Claude asked, looking at him questioningly and popping grapes in his mouth.

“Uh…” Byleth breathed into his wine, keeping the lower half of his face hidden. “Yeah...of course.”

“It’s all right, By,” Claude hopped off of the war table, his unbuttoned shirt sliding out from his pants. 

Byleth peered down at the table; he wasn’t looking if he wasn’t _caught_ looking, right?

“I might walk the walk and all,” Claude started, “but I don’t really... **_walk_ ** the walk, if you know what I’m saying. You don’t have to save face around me when it comes to talking about sinners and Saints.”

“Haha...funny; you say you walk the walk and all, but I could’ve sworn, out of everyone’s faces I’ve seen coming and going from the cathedral, _yours_ was never one of them.”

“I don’t know what you’re _insinuating,_ Teach…” Claude said, running his fingers through his hair only for his waves to retain their original state. “I managed to single-handedly guarantee the rescue of Garreg Mach’s very own relics buried in the mausoleum, right alongside _your_ rather devoted self. Those are some _valuable_ corpses.”

“Yes, and you’ll notice most people don’t pray to the _corpses_ directly. Have you ever prayed for a single day in your life?” 

Byleth twisted himself to face Claude, who stood with his back turned, in the night breeze against the brocaded window. He rubbed his hand just under his unkempt curls where his hair sloped down flat into the nape of his neck, and then his arm fell lifelessly at his side again.

“I have, actually. I used to pray when I was just a kid.”

“You’re still a kid, more or less,” Byleth rebutted. 

“That’s a _‘kid with great power and privilege,’_ to you, sir.” 

“Sure, but what does a kid like that have to pray for, anyway?”

Panic swamped Claude’s eyes, but his disposition still brimmed over with energy irregardless, looking as if he might let a laugh slip in all his fragility. “To be different than I am. For the Saints to change what I was...to be...accepted.” 

Byleth’s eyes narrowed and he took a deep breath that sunk low into his diaphragm. He flicked dark ocean-coloured hairs out of his eyes. “Different _how,_ exactly?”

“Heh! You sure ask a lot of questions tonight, Teach. What ever happened to relaxing after class like we always do?”

“You don’t find it relaxing…? Is it that bad of a question, that you can’t simply take a load off your chest?”

Claude half-turned, looking annoyed, inhaling quickly through his nose, so deeply that his collarbones dimpled even more visibly.

_‘Why do I notice these things…?’_ Byleth thought. _‘Or do I only notice them when he’s got his shirt_ **_hanging half off his body?’_ **

**** Claude bit his lip. “Look-- I don’t wanna say the wrong thing around you, all right? You’re already tough as it is to impress. I’m not someone who can just…’relax’ on command, no matter how it looks. I strategize when I should be having dreams...I wake up...I eat, and then I go back to sleep again. Sometimes, a battle or two in between...but this?” He touched his finger to the side of his skull. “ _Always_ something going on in here.”

Byleth slowly opened his mouth to speak, but instead Claude interjected: “Speaking of sleep, I think most of your candles are burning out.” His boot squeaked against the stone flooring as he twisted and blew out an entire candelabra by the window. 

“Claude, wait…” Byleth called, pulling out his chair to stand and watch Claude slide his cloak over his shoulders and disappear down the spiral staircase. “I...I get it.”

Byleth glanced over his shoulder at the smoking candles. Indeed, the wicks had burned low enough and hot wax pooled to cover the entire tray underneath, but they always burned on at least an hour longer.

* * *

Claude awoke and rolled over onto his side, his...sleeves…? Crinkling? 

“Ahh-- What in the name of…?” dusting himself off, he stood, his boots creaking against the hardwood floor. _‘Still in my uniform…what was I_ **_thinking?’_ **

He cleansed the lower half of his face in the sink, washing the sleep from his eyes with cold water. As he patted the dampness dry with a towel, he glanced at the scrolls on his desk. Maybe he should bring them with him...but something was urging him to leave his bedroom as soon as possible to make his way down to the lecture hall. It probably didn’t help knowing he’d slept later than usual.

Behind him, his cape swept around the corner as he passed the Training Grounds, but a monk slowed and reached her hand out towards him. He halted quickly, nearly running her down, blinking in confusion. Sprigs from a fir tree, tied together with a bow around a graceful white orchid. He took it from her tentatively, and the older woman smiled with wrinkled eyes. Holding the delicate bundle between his fingers, he lifted it up under his nostrils, an imaginary warmth permeating his body as he breathed in the pine-like scent - one of his favourites.

He opened his eyes and stared at the robed monk in wonderment for a brief moment, and then thanked her. Both of them carried on in opposite directions, Claude pinning the sprig to his coat as he continued to walk at a brisk pace.

When he pushed into the sturdy wooden doors that would open up into the lecture hall, he felt a half-release, and then the mechanisms in the door held it in stasis as if someone was holding it shut from the other side.

_‘Really? Locked out…?’_ He must’ve been seriously late, or maybe it was a lesson that couldn’t bear interrupting. He wasn’t about to bang on the door; no _‘Come let Claude von Riegan into your busy classroom!’_ as if he had nothing better to do. He could easily just...well, he could just…

After walking a few paces through the grass, he raised his chin and looked onwards through the Monastery’s property to the North. Wyvern riders who watched over the school glided along an invisible plane, higher than each overwhelmingly tall stone tower. Mist pooled and gathered around the fortresses’ western wing, all the way towards the mountains. Tiny doves perched along the pathways parallel to the dark corridors that wove between the various classrooms and halls. The birds’ pleasant rhymes and melodies tickled his ears, and he followed the sound towards the mist.

* * *

  
  


“Lorenz,” Byleth decided to say aloud, like a chant he’d been meditating on for some minutes and only now had escaped his lips. “Hang back for a moment after the others. Everyone else-- you’re free to return to your various tasks for the afternoon. Just don’t forget what we’ve got planned for evening block.”

“Well, I suppose I would ask the same of myself if I weren’t in my own good company so often nowadays,” Lorenz chided, smirking. He stowed his quill away and pushed the wooden drawer closed to his desk with a familiar, ritual thud. The other students followed, the Golden Deer piling out into the grounds’ luminous fog, chuckles dancing through the air after Lorenz’s joke.

Byleth tilted his face to one side with a sleepy smile, Lorenz leaning comfortably against his desk. 

“Not all bad for a Friday lecture. Here I was thinking you’d run out of your _vigor_ at this point in the week.”

“Hm,” Byleth thought, or appeared to think, but that was something he wasn’t at all focused on. “Not quite. Listen…” 

Lorenz’s eyebrow arched upwards. 

“It’s about your leader.”

“Oh, the Lady Rhea?” Lorenz asked. 

Byleth shook his head, his hair brushing against his eyes. “No -- Claude. He’s a little more tough of an egg to crack than I’d been hoping-- not in the way that he’s stand-offish or anything, just…”

“There’s no _good_ way to approach him on issues requiring maturity,” Lorenz assumed, wondering where Byleth was going with this.

“No, no...we talk plenty back and forth when it comes to the day-to-day of the Monastery, but...when it comes to talking about himself, he’s just...terrible.” Byleth glanced up at Lorenz as if he knew he should’ve seen this coming.

“Professor…” Lorenz grinned. “Are you _saying_ you want to court **the** Claude von Riegan of the Golden Deer? Or maybe...you want to court him, without actually _courting_ him?” 

Byleth’s chair squeaked against the cobblestone floor and he stood, folding his arms. “I don’t know, I just know that whatever I’ve been _trying_ so far... _well_...he’s gotta stop holding back on whatever it is.”

Lorenz studied the Professor in silence. “You **_are_ ** aware that he’s never had any substantial relationship, or been arranged a lady’s hand in marriage?”

“Um...I certainly suspected as much,” Byleth responded, wiping down the blackboard with a cloth and staring at the blank chalky surface. “You’re not saying...he’s a virgin, are you?” he asked, whipping around to face Lorenz and unfortunately just then, remembered that he had no drink cabinet in the classroom. His ears grow suddenly hot -- thankfully, his hair covered them.

“Well, aren’t _you,_ Professor?”

Byleth dropped a piece of chalk and it snapped in half on the ground in front of his boot. He looked angrily at Lorenz as he kicked it off to the side. “Even if I _were,_ you wouldn’t catch me dilly-dallying around Garregh Mach telling everyone about it.”

“I can’t confirm Claude von Riegan’s ‘purity,’ if you will, because I haven’t the faintest idea. I do know, however, that he’s been with women, or... _woman,_ of esteemed nobility, but not long after he stationed himself here, at Garreg Mach. Ever since, his days of courting seem to have gone quiet...I’ve certainly never caught him handing out or sending off letters to some royal lover.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean anything,” Byleth said nonchalantly, adjusting his cloak over his shoulders and placing his officer cap firmly over his head.

“If you’re really burning to find out, there may be one way to do it...not to mention, it’s rather quick and simple to follow.”

Byleth side-glanced at Lorenz - he hadn’t moved at all, leaning unassumingly on his desk. _“Tell me.”_


	2. To Follow Blindly

Lorenz dropped the rounded bottle with a slick sheen on the dining hall counter. “A substantial amount of this should do it. Enough to make him forget the names of a few Leicester nobles.”

“Uh…” Byleth held the bottle for a moment, staring at it, and then placed it back down on the counter. “This seems like a bad idea.”

“Well, sure, for most people maybe, but Claude is relatively harmless...and so are you, or at least that’s the impression _I_ was under.” 

“Yeah, probably a lot more harmless than this stuff.”

“Claude drinks very rarely, but if you give him some of this, it should be _just_ enough to make him forget about _all_ of his insecurities...and I mean _all_ of them.”

“How would you know?” Byleth questioned, narrowing his eyes at Lorenz and then scanning the dining hall for any wandering eyes. He moved himself between them and the bottle.

“There was a banquet not too long before you and your Father returned. Claude drank a few too many for what he was used to and told Edelgard 'when she gets angry, her face turns the same colour as her tights.'”

Byleth waited solemnly. He smiled nervously at the doe-eyed chef polishing wine glasses nearby. 

“He also told her ' _Hanneman_ would’ve made a more natural born leader to the throne of the Adrestian Empire than her **_very own_** _Father.'”_

“...Ouch…” Byleth muttered under his breath.

“He was so happy the next day that he didn’t even bother saying _anything_ to us when we lost a battle to the other two houses."

“He’s not _that_ bad, you know…”

“Exactly. You’ve already managed to find better in him than most people. That’s why if _anyone_ should be the one to nudge him in the right direction...it may as well be you.” Lorenz raised his eyebrows knowingly.

* * *

Byleth took his time searching the halls; not exactly looking particularly hard, but if he found Claude anywhere along the way as he made tallies on what the students were up to, then he found him. 

Huffing, he’d gone all the way down to the currently-deserted fishing pond and back up again to find him nowhere in sight. Asking everyone would become obvious if he started doing that all the time. He walked impatiently to the North, his gaze focused on the thick layer of sleet and ice over the mountains. The mist began to clear as rays of sunlight pierced the clouds on his way up to the cathedral. Casually advancing past the guards, he kept to the sides along the monastery’s outer walls...he liked to call the stone pathway there the ‘sky walk.’ He slowed, tuning his ears to listen for birds, but instead there were only quiet hymns that reached just beyond the cathedral walls. Nothing had changed a moment later, twisting his head to look around in the alienation of something that seemed to be missing. He closed his eyes for a moment to catch his breath, when a sigh dropped out of the clouds mere feet before him. His eyes opened wide this time and his heart skipped a beat. _How long had someone been there!?_ He lowered his head, running his fingers along the black brim of his hat.

“Teach? Are you trying to hide from me now?”

Byleth’s mouth parted slightly and he slid his cap off, the mist clearing away from the pathway where Claude stood. Doves pecked away at golden millet on the ground around him. 

“...Claude.” Byleth smiled and held out his hand, waiting for the confident noble to take it. He did, firmly, until he walked up to Byleth’s side and stood next to him. They looked beyond the Monastery walls towards the myriad of blue sky and mountains that sheltered the grounds. 

“So, you do visit the cathedral... _sometimes,”_ Byleth chuckled. “But, I’m not really sure if this counts.” 

“Hah, well, I’d say it’s close enough.” 

“Hm? What’s this?” Byleth stepped forwards, reaching for something on Claude’s chest. Carefully, he lifted the orchid and pine sprig pinned to his coat with the underside of his fingers.

The cathedral bells rang out throughout the stone pathways, making birds fly in all directions in a spark of their wings flapping. Claude swallowed anxiously and glanced over at the cathedral’s open side entrance, close enough to see the pews. He swore he saw the end of someone’s skirt peeking out from around the corner. His breath hitched in his chest, he instinctively grabbed Byleth’s hand. The professor’s eyes rose softly, examining his face. Confusing the gesture, Byleth grasped Claude’s hand back even harder, squeezing his opposite shoulder and walking him sternly back against the wall. A pillar nearby had cast a shadow over both of them. 

Claude’s neck stiffened, his legs having lost some of their steadiness already. Byleth’s long fingers stroked his jawline and he quickly smacked his hand away. “P-professor!? Is something wrong?”

Their noses grazed against each other's, faces no more than an inches apart, and Byleth’s brow wrinkled suddenly, having become just as startled.

“Uh, no, I just..." His grip around Claude's shoulder relaxed significantly. "I thought you meant something else.”

_“Hahaha_ ...ha, what could I possibly have meant by _that!?”_ Claude’s expression fell despite the bluff he'd put on, noticing the deadpan look in Byleth’s eyes. “Mm- see you soon,” Claude mumbled so quickly that Byleth almost misheard him this time -- _another_ misunderstanding he didn't need.

Claude brushed his fingers back through his hair as he walked away, his step noticeably more flighty than he ever went about the monastery. 

Byleth stood there, alone, and placed his cap back on his head as a rush of cool air swarmed his face. His stomach ached, feeling a fair amount more bleak than he had been a moment ago, but at the same time, he decided he was not about to fully understand whatever had happened there. 

About to return to the errands he should’ve been tending to anyway, he turned to head back down the path, but his boot met with a tiny form beneath him. Frowning, he leaned down to pick up the crushed bouquet of twigs, freeing the orchid that Claude had carelessly stepped over. He tucked the rest of it, just the bristly pine, away in his cloak, and carried on.


	3. Destiny Has Claws, Defiance Has Wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something has gone horribly wrong during what was going to be a Practice Field Exam. Byleth isn't back yet.

It was a practice test gone embarrassingly wrong. Of course they thought Saturday test to catch the students off guard would go over well. Of course, that Saturday, they would come under _actual_ attack — from a severed group of exiled barbarians from a forest in the South. A short-axe sliced into Byleth’s cheek between the inner corner of his eye and his nose. He growled aimlessly, even louder this time, a streak of blood draining out of the corner of his eye and covering his vision on that side completely. He flailed his arm outwards and gripped the fighter’s wrist, not caring if he was holding so tight that his nails cut through his own gloves. He swung himself forwards and smashed their heads together, blood soaking from his upper cheek all down his enemy’s face. His teeth bared and his free arm lifeless at his side, he waited for the menace of a barbarian to make another move. 

Then, the caress of wood slipped through the air past him - if he knew that sound, a defined cylinder - an arrow - cutting the barbarian’s brains right through his skull. Byleth stared into the barbarian‘s cold, dying eyes with his own vision blurred, the ruffian quickly losing all sentience. Byleth pried the axe from a hand that was still holding on too long. He tossed it behind him in the mud. It _wasn’t_ going to be used again. 

His hair made his neck suddenly tingle with cold, sticking to him, soft tendrils fallen on his cloak. Byleth took first full breath since being alarmed of the attack, and his chest croaked painfully. He finally had a moment to realize how rapidly his heart beat now that it was over, so loud in his chest that he could’ve sworn it would be set ablaze if the pain didn’t subside, falling to his knees. His head was in a daze from the throbbing wound; oddly familiar, as if he‘d fisted back one, two…three tankards, only one after the other. 

_“BYLETH!!!”_ The voice shot out, rippling through blood-soaked puddles and mud.

Soon by his side, another Alliance member grabbed him, the muddy ground suddenly swerving upright as Byleth’s body had slumped over. The calming voice whispered as his arms were grabbed to hold him upright.

“I almost didn’t save you…you idiot.”

His savior’s breath was heavy and grating; not having enough air in his lungs to speak let alone breathe. Then, the colours faded back into his throbbing reality. A deep blue reflection of the sky in a puddle on the ground; Claude’s almond-coloured skin as he held held Byleth’s hand in his own. 

“Claude…” he said, oddly relieved and pleasant, a tear rolling down his cheek that burned from the origin of the fresh gash in his face.

“Yeah -- it’s me.” He rubbed his fingers against Byleth’s shaking ones as if he held them tighter, the shaking might stop.

“Better you than my students. I got them out as soon as I could…”

“You did the right thing by retreating. They all fell back to the monastery before you could make it halfway...but...you’re safe now. Here.” 

Claude arranged a dampened cloth against Byleth’s wound from rolling up a torn off fragment of his cloak. He smoothed his thumb over Byleth’s eyelid, wiping off the blood, and when he stared at him, he was uncertain. Having to wince to pry his disjointed-feeling eyelid open was painful, but Byleth did it just to show Claude that he could.

“Good,” Claude said, his thumb lingering on his cheekbone, stroking it nervously and unconsciously. “You can feel everything all right? They didn’t get you anywhere else, did they?”

Byleth shook his head. “I’m fine, Claude. It’s only my face; nowhere else. In fact…” Byleth gloved hand reached down, sinking into the mud. “We should go back. They’ll be wondering about us.”

“Hey, now --” Claude said, always quicker to the jump, grabbing Byleth from under his arms. “No funny business. I shouldn’t have to tell you, of all people. We’re staying.” Once Byleth had been drug along the dirt a few feet, Claude placed him against a tree, barely visible in the brush Byleth had led the barbarian to. “They can come get _us_ for once. You shouldn’t have to move, in case we get another wave.” 

“They were stragglers to begin with. There won’t _be_ another wave.”

“Yeah?” Claude said breathily. “Well, what would you say…” he held his hand under his chin pensively as if questioning what he was about to say. “What would you say, if I told you you had me _scared shitless?_ Knowing you weren’t back yet…” Claude’s eyes gleamed unexpectedly; even Byleth could see that beyond his lavish gold-decaled Officer’s uniform and his always appearing so casual. “I did something that no one should ever do in a situation like that...I actually...panicked!”  
Byleth watched the changes in Claude’s increasingly bothered expression, breathing through words that felt a little too real.

“Do you know how _hard_ it is for me to panic!?” 

  
  


⥉

**_I did something wrong, too, Claude…_ **

_I panicked,_

_Where I should’ve instead been focused_

_A battle going on_

_Right in front of me._

_I panicked,_

_As soon as I realized_

_I had no way to know you were safe_

_To not know for certain,_

**_No one_ ** _had gotten to you..._

_I didn’t have a clue where you were-_

_Wondered - Were the Monastery walls breached?_ _  
__I felt that._

_For whatever reason_

_I felt that in my heart._

_➳_

A thunderous flapping sounded above them as one of the wyverns overhead buffeted invisible orbs of air inside its wings. Claude raised his bow upwards and shouted out to them with a deep command, unaffected by heavy strokes of rain rolling down on his face. The Wyvern Knights swerved down and carried Byleth off as Claude left him in their care. As he was lifted off again, Claude sped from underneath the beast’s claws and bolted, mud splashing behind him, to meet Byleth on the other side. _‘Why is this bothering me so much?’_ Claude asked himself, the air whipping past his heated neck and ears, running. 

_‘Since when did it bother me so much...having to watch my own friends take on something they can handle perfectly fine? Aren’t these the same people I might eventually be up against? I don’t know...Gods, do I ever hope it doesn’t come down to that…’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for hanging tight; I know a few of you were looking forwards to more! It feels so good to have people just as excited about a fandom/pairing/fic or anything as I am! Thank you so much for supporting. I still have more where this came from, don't worry! Wow, I wrote these so quickly in my notebook, not really thinking a ton as I went, but this was really intense to edit haha. 
> 
> Tumblr: http://mirrormyheart.tumblr.com/  
> Commissions: http://toiracreates.carrd.co
> 
> I might be accepting more Claudeleth (and other character) ideas/kinks once this story is typed out and more under-way.  
> (Also, I hope no one minds that I switched tenses for a bit there or that it wasn't too confusing. I wasn't specifically thinking about perspective but someone reminded me recently about the 'closeness' that different POVs mean between character and reader but something was really poking me to write things like this. At one point I almost accidentally went full first-person in story form :'D)


	4. Kings, & Their Kings Unmentioned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good luck, hope it was worth the wait, & enjoy... :D I got nothin'. (No, it's not over yet. I've got some other scenes/ideas but most of it I need to write up anew.)

They’d watched each other a little closer since that day. Even if neither of them spoke to each other about their last run-in, or about anything, one still watched over the other. 

Byleth would stand at the front of the class, performing lectures, minding his own business -- at work, as he should be, and Claude would look over at him. He didn’t know why, but he learned more... _better,_ this way, since Byleth had joined the Officers Academy as Professor. 

Claude would arrange the students like ducks before a walk-up for Lady Rhea, and Byleth would watch from further down the carpeted receiving hall, knowing that he wasn’t needed, and that was fine. He smiled as he watched the shuffle, Claude modeling a way of standing so pencil-straight that no one wanted to copy him, Hilda scoffing at him with her hand on one hip.

Byleth watched Claude when they were alone together in the tower; watched him a little more than he had before. Far more than he watched his own drink; he didn’t, anymore. How could he pay it any mind when he was watching someone as irresistibly attractive and endearing as Claude? He watched knowing that all of this might be pushing it. Yet, there was the undeniable, unspoken sentiment that both of them felt a responsibility to look out for one another, especially after what had occurred in the field.

“Come _on,_ ” Claude whined and dropped his shoulders. “Drink something, would you?! You’re making me nervous with all your... _non-drinking_ and such. Aren’t you worried we’ll arrive at the hall and you’ll get called up to dance? No one in their right mind wants to do _that_ sober.” 

All of the Students and Monastery staff were due to meet at the Banquet Hall for the Ball, just in time for the coldest month of the year - the Ethereal Moon. Byleth was still somewhat detached to what all of this meant, but apparently it was important and a reason worth celebrating...that didn’t sound all that bad, and it was a welcome change of pace from the month before. 

“Mm...not too worried, between you and I,” Byleth answered. “Do you think Edelgard might _finally_ ask me?” He asked with a facetious glimmer in his eye, watching for Claude’s reaction. He only showed his disgust for a moment.

“Something tells me that Hubert will ask her first. Whether or not she actually dances with him is a different story. There’s gotta be a lot of guys lined up to try to get with the heir to the throne of the Adrestrian Empire...if not to ‘hold her hand’ then to...uh, yeah, _nevermind,_ that went somewhere dark. _”_ Claude sighed and shook his head. He had his eyes on a bottle sitting in the wine rack, opening and drawing in the rich scent and beginning to pour himself a glass. “So, unless you wanna stand up against Hubey and those other guys…”

Byleth blinked and paused from his last-minute marking of reports, playing that back in his mind. “What did you just--? Nevermind…” 

Claude dropped onto the lavish loveseat, his robe naturally floating and falling over the back of it. He clutched his wine glass, the one trick up his sleeve that he had left to make this night a whole lot less nerve-wracking...hopefully. Byleth lost complete interest in his quill and it clacked against his desk. Taking his spot next to Claude, he took Claude’s glass, moving his palm over top of it and setting it aside on the table. “There’s something much better in the dining hall. You should join me in sharing it.” 

Surprisingly, Claude didn’t even bat an eye when Byleth looked at him with his steely blue ones. “Hah--” Claude’s eyes lit up devilishly. “Trying to outdrink me, _are you?_ That’s more like the Byleth I’m used to.” 

“Careful,” Byleth said in a rather paternal tone, taking Claude’s hand to pull him off of the loveseat. “That’s not an easy task to assume, you know. After all, you’re talking to the son of Geralt.” 

“Hah...yeah, how could I forget? I should be cashing in on that-- start telling everyone around the Monastery about how I saved Jeralt, the former Knight of Seiros’s _son.”_

* * *

  
  


Claude entered back into his consciousness, stuck between that and a haze, wetness prodding in and around his hole. He shuddered for a moment, the sensation creeping down his back and arms, blinking to try and make his surroundings anything close to clear, but the cock pulled upwards inside him an inch. It slowly penetrated him again, and he gasped. The shaft teased the sensitive muscles of his rim that he never remembered ever giving permission to be used. Still, he was spellbound; intoxicated, the world around him racing, but everything inside anchoring him to what _really_ mattered now, the warmth frighteningly satisfying. He didn’t know if he could bear it; maybe this was a mistake…

Byleth licked his lips, sweat making his long jade hair stick to his neck and chest. ““Ah, dammit…” he panted, “You just got even tighter.” 

“A-ah…!” Claude whimpered and pulled his arms in along his sides, the sheets coming with him as Byleth forced his cock in deeper. The sounds of his ass being worked out were as shocking as much as the feeling jolted him all the way through, his face smothered in heat against the bedding. Every push of Byleth inside his soft ass-hole made his calves spasm and tense. Sweat dripped down Byleth’s forehead, enjoying prodding into Claude's insides just as much. He coiled his arms around Claude’s, clasping his throat firmly yet steadily, just enough to add pressure to his adam’s apple and not choke him. He blew animalistic pants that Claude couldn’t shake from his ear, squirming in his Professor's dedicated grasp.

The veins throbbed around Claude's shaft, swelling to its full capacity...if he wasn’t awake before, he was now. He bit down on his lower nip, so _needy,_ murmuring just loud enough through the pain for Byleth to hear. Was it his pain...? His... _enjoyment? ...No--he couldn’t_ **_like_ ** _this--at least not_ _anywhere_ ** _outside_** _of this room…_ No-- if someone had told him weeks ago he’d be letting his ass be pounded by his Professor, this near _-stranger_ taking ownership of his whole body like this and giving him no warning that this was _why_ they were friends in the first place...he could only have laughed _\--_ kept his distance from this... _deranged_ Professor. Yeah _,_ that’s _exactly_ what he would’ve done.

Byleth kept on, fiercely claiming Claude’s insides, his greedy quickness overwhelming the Golden Deer with tingling heat. Claude’s jaw relaxing, he swerved his hips against Byleth in repeated circular motions, leading his ass-cheeks into Byleth’s grasp, growing ever firmer. _Blissfully unaware._ Between the thrusts of Byleth above him, pounding Claude until his face grew hot, any air that managed to encircle them was far cooler in comparison, numbing the sensations of anything that wasn't skin-to-skin. Whenever Byleth's cock was pulled out as long as a second, or his arousal grew absent from between Claude's ass-cheeks, Claude pulled him back in desperation. Sweat rolled down his temple, dripping down the tip of his nose, his earthen, hot skin gleaming as Byleth imagined was natural Gods and Goddess. Claude's eyes were half-closed and subdued as Byleth cradled him, wrapping himself around Claude's every limb, spurring on a sudden thought-- _it’s not like my Professor to be so…_

A sound tickled Claude's ear, turning his face to have Byleth's warmly whispered words spread over his cheek. 

“You still with me?” 

_Precious_ \-- he was trying to get _precious_ with him. 

Claude nodded slowly before even thinking of how to answer, pushing his ass up to hint at him as he relaxed a little more from shoulder to shoulder. Gods dammit-- shouldn't the Professor know by now _, he_ was the precious one? 

Or, maybe his thoughts had suffered too much...he’d drank far too much, too _fast._ He wasn’t making _any_ _damn_ sense, to either of them, probably -- but dear _Gods_ did Byleth pounding him cleanse him of his worry. _‘This is better than I ever would’ve imagined…’_ Claude thought. The backside of his neck tingled, feeling naked for the first time that whole night.

Byleth sighed hoarsely from behind him, teasing his cock, slowly pulling from Claude's ass in an increasingly agitating way-- and then _shoving_ it back in as if some kind of punishment.

“Unnh!” Claude whined uncontrollably, his eyes rolling back as was ridden like he needed to bred.

 _Fuck,_ that wasn’t needed, but **_so_ ** fucking good… “ _Ohhh,”_ Claude moaned low in his throat as every body part touched together, drunken by every slow pump deeper into his insides. “Y- _eaah…”_ ~ 

Their bodies interlaced in their humid sweat, Claude finally allowing his upper half to droop against the bed, resting into the fold of his own arms.

Byleth didn't hesitate to use the position to his advantage, pushing Claude's shoulders even further down in his own obsessed stupor, curving his cock into Claude, now literally mounting him. He moved in deeper with every thrust, pushing his cock in as deep as he could despite Claude clearly hanging on with any strength he had left. 

Claude's body lulled in place almost lifelessly as his hole was enjoyed, feeling only the gushing sensations where he'd never been explored. He could feel himself fading now, losing his last shreds of awareness, but unbound by the warm sensations of being ridden. 

_“More_ …" He pressed his face into the sheets, feeling the heat of his own breath condense his face. "Mmh, c’mon Teach -- quit holding back.” Claude flashed a hint of a grin. There was no way he could know what he was saying, and with his eyes closed, Byleth almost wouldn't have known any better to assume someone like Claude could be the deceptive thinker that he was.

Gritting his teeth, Claude threw his head back, unleashing a groan, Byleth’s cock responding to him quickly. Claude nuzzled his nose and sweaty forehead into the sheets, feeling every bend of his hips, in that moment, his only purpose of being was to be _this_ excessively enjoyed, Byleth’s fluids sliding into him, moaning deeper into every aggravated pump.

“Mmmh…” Byleth exhaled harshly through his nose, balancing on his feet to mount Claude. He gripped the headboard, the only thing close enough to give him more leverage. “You really needed to feel your Professor’s cock, _didn’t_ you?” Byleth grabbed the headboard with both hands and rode the one he’d wanted-- he rode him _incessantly._ Claude was so filled with cock and exhaustion that he’d surrendered all ability to move. His reddened body shrugged with every movement, falling deeper into the sheets wrinkled around him. 

_Lust. That’s what this was -- what all these perversions were._


	5. A Jagged Crescent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of a night delved far too deep into.

Was he going to see him again…? Byleth? Of course he would. It was only a matter of when.

He had slipped away from Byleth’s peaceful, resting side that morning, guilt hanging over his back as he walked like some kind of curse, and it hadn’t left him since. Why did it feel like he’d left something - something else, _besides_ the common sense he thought he had? When did it ever come down to jeopardizing everything he’d so _narrowly_ been gifted with -- his ties to the Alliance…?

Washing himself clean had hardly made any difference. He’d tried every smooth and rough stone in the showers to buffer against his skin -- nothing had been enough to erase the feeling of filth gripping every inch of his body…He should be regretting all of it, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to. Why? Was it because he’d been too piss-drunk last night, when they’d… Claude blinked, his cheeks turning crimson. He’d forgotten for a moment where he was -- alone, on his bed. Leaning forwards, he sighed a long, drawn-out sigh, weaving his fingers together, resting his elbows on his knees. He’d managed to dress himself, but he’d been so distracted. 

He stood in his mirror, his body doing the motions of almost any other _regular_ day despite that he wasn’t fully convinced, picking up the golden earring on the ledge of the cabinet. He reached up to his ear and the Professor’s whispering echoed against them, as clear as if he’d heard it in person. His heart jolted playfully; a little too suddenly for his liking. He shivered and nearly dropped his earring, catching it before it was tossed right into the sink to be lost down the faucet forever. When he looked up at himself again, he craned his neck to one side slightly upon seeing something out of the ordinary, hidden in the shadow of his chin. A light purple mark had been made across the skin of his upper neck; his fingertip smoothed across it idly, his teeth carefully gnawing against his own lips.

Feeling warmth spread around his neck, he cleared his throat and moved away from the mirror. Of course he felt guilt over having left the Professor to wake all by his lonesome; he didn’t even want to picture it, but he’d almost talked himself into wondering, did _that_ kind of visit leave want for two people who wake up in the same _bed?_ What were they supposed to do-- show up in the banquet hall holding hands!? Claude scoffed, imagining Byleth pouring him a steaming cup of breakfast tea, making starry eyes at each other from across the dining table as if there was no one else in Fodlan.

Was everything different now? He sat down again, a faint wave stirring around his forehead, clutching the sheets around him. It would be a long year ahead, thinking of if they could find some way to acknowledge…  
No; it was nothing. This was just him second-guessing himself. How could he even think for one second that he would let this one little... _accident,_ get in between him and everything that he’d already set in motion, starting with the monastery? ...Was that how Teach felt? 

Having to face him again...he didn't know how that was supposed to feel...what he was supposed to say, how he would react. Whatever happened, they could never make any of it known to the students - maybe not _anyone,_ for that matter. _‘Guess I’m one of your secrets,’_ he thought. _‘I never thought I’d end up having to hold your secrets quite so close…’_

* * *

Rhea opened her arm in an arc as if scattering petals across the ground. “I thank you for keeping our students safe, Professor. Now, please, in the meantime, do not forget - one of your greatest responsibilities is in fact to yourself, and, I hope - the Goddess, may she ever grace you on your path…” Rhea bowed her head, tendrils of her pale green hair cascading down below her headdress over her cloak.

“Indeed,” he responded. “To the both of you as well.” 

He still wasn’t accustomed to using any of the Church’s jargon, but thankfully no one pressed him about it. They must have known he couldn’t be all that different from his Father, or it seemed that way. 

Seteth nodded, watching Byleth closely as he slowly wandered away from Rhea’s chamber. Byleth’s ears were burning, but he chose to numb himself from whatever conversation Seteh and the Archbishop were engaged in - speaking in low voices as if Byleth didn’t know they were trying to _solve_ him, much like everyone else.

Still breathing in Rhea’s flowery incense as it drifted through the corridors, Byleth’s eyes blinked heavily, his body and mind cocooned in an immovable dreamy state…

It was difficult not to be somewhat on edge right after hearing what was expected of him on the next mission, but he was so spent from everything he’d done last night...ugh, thank goodness he didn’t have to instruct today. That, he _could_ do in his sleep, but after having physically unleashed the months upon months of locked up frustrations as it were, he felt like he’d spent the night in some sort of transformation ritual and ended up something that could hardly be called _human._ Yet, for people who hadn’t spent years of their life as a mercenary, these were common concepts - a bed to lay in, a partner who surrenders their company to you -- he would be wise not to take such things for granted, _if_ they lasted.

Swept up by his thoughts, Byleth had followed the stone corridors all the way around to the library. He took his time stepping into it, glancing around every pillar and empty table once inside. Everything was fairly clean; not a single pile of books graced the tables, nor the sound of a turning page. Sighing, he continued to wander the empty library’s rows. His focus leisurely crossed the hundreds of spines spanning wall to wall, every page telling one of Fodlan’s historical events -- true, and likely fabricated. He could’ve read at least half of these books during his travels against moonlit riversides and half-occupied villages. He’d never known a better companion on a sleepless night than a good book to read...or so it had been. 

He wondered again, why Rhea had chosen him above others at the monastery, many of whom surely must have absorbed plenty of this library’s information - not only that, but some of them had even lived it. He shook his head, rounding the room all the way to its other side. He reached for a book, not caring which one; he didn’t even know if it could hold his interest before his thoughts began drifting again. 

When he closed his eyes, Sothis’ legs were dangling over her throne, so small that her feet couldn’t touch to the ground fully. Her nasal voice boomed through the otherwise empty space. “It looks as though someone approaches... _you…!_ You should not **_waste_ ** another moment here, needlessly sleeping your hours away!”

“Mm…?” Byleth muttered. The corners of his lips stuck together at first, a light film having formed in his unconsciousness. He pulled his head from the table, sweeping his Officer’s hat to the side as it had already half-fallen from his head. When he became upright once more, the blood quickly returned to his arms, and he blinked at Claude ‘s profile in one of the rows before him. His head was lowered, sifting through a section of books. Byleth felt his chest tighten from equal parts nerves and excitement. He stood; it wasn’t the time to be hesitating -- Sothis’ voice still rung through his mind, the urgency in her words holding him captive.

“I wouldn’t have expected you to be here today.”

Claude passed a quick glance at him, none too surprised, before he leaned back casually against one of the wooden pillars along the bookshelves. “Didn’t know where else to go. I figured this would be easier, but just _looking_ at books makes me dizzy.”

“You could’ve slept in longer.” Byleth lowered his head; he faced the shelves in silence, not having meant to go _there_ quite so quickly, but it just came out that way.

“Huh?” Claude looked obliviously at him. 

Even though Byleth could feel Claude’s eyes on him, it was better that he move on. 

“You’ll be fine...drink lots of water. And, a glass of wine the next day never hurt a man.”

“No way--” Claude said, mocking disgust even though he felt it in his stomach. “I couldn’t even if I _did_ want some. Not after what I--” He looked up and they locked eyes. Claude mouthed words that never made sound; he couldn’t even find the right words, let alone sound.

Blinking, equally as awkward, everything but Claude's slender features, Byleth had tuned out. He expected him not to say anything, but on either side, both held their own burning questions locked up tight.

“Besides, it looks like you’re getting more than enough sleep for the two of us,” Claude said, folding his arms to appear standoffish. 

“Oh, that? I didn’t realize I’d let myself get that tired...but, it’s better I get the rest now. Tomorrow I’ll be too preoccupied.”

“Tomorrow...oh, man, tomorow’s Mission day, isn’t it?” Claude asked as if this wasn’t the fifth time he’d been made aware.

Byleth nodded. “I’ll need your assistance in looking after the students, at the _very_ least.”

“Least, huh?” Claude faced Byleth finally and stood with a hand at his waist. “You’re making me scared to ask what the worst case scenario would be...but, whatever you need, Teach -- I’ll be ready for tomorrow.” 

Byleth was thrown off by Claude’s ‘all work, no play’ demeanor, even though he looked significantly more relaxed after the two of them had talked for a while. He shrugged it off as if he hadn’t noticed. “Then, you should have no problem discussing how we’re going to plan the siege of a hidden chamber beneath the Knights' Quarters. We’ll meet later tonight.” Byleth felt his back stiffen all the way up his neck, and he avoided Claude’s gaze, folding his own arms this time.

“The Knights' Quarters? But-- Teach, how do you expect me to know what it looks like down there, anyway?”

“That’s exactly _why_ we need to talk.” Byleth took a deep, shaken breath and stepped closer, towards Claude. “Listen,” he said, noticing how regal Claude looked, the brunette leaning back, torturingly aloof. He blinked, somehow more frustrated, his adrenaline boiling with intensity--frustrated with himself, frustrated with Claude -- what difference did it make? “You can feign avoidance for as long as you want, but the fact remains that I’m your Professor, first and foremost. I've been here long enough that I don't see a reason to leave, so hopefully that's an idea that grows on you over time. I don’t _**need**_ you to _want_ anything from me, Claude.”

Claude scoffed, throwing his head back loftily at that one, pacing in a half-circle close-by.

“I'm not holding anything against you,” Byleth said, “...but yet, as I understand it, neither of us can ignore…” He cleared his throat, regaining focus and returning his cap over his head, becoming easier to obscure his expression. “If you _want_ anything, Claude, I can be the one to provide it. Tonight, we need merely stay on task surrounding the Mission.”

“Tonight...?” Claude asked, brazenly meeting his gaze, rubbing the back of his neck.“You mean in the _tower?”_

“Yes-- the tower. Is there a problem?” A grin wanted to crawl up the corner of Byleth’s lips, but he listened. He was used to this kind of headfirst negotiation; he could do it all day, come up with any reason why they should meet in the tower, regardless of intentions --he couldn’t let Claude slip out of his grasp for any reason, now. 

“Tonight...in the tower,” Claude’s mind visibly drew pictures judging by the movements of his eyes, like mapping out the points of a constellation. “Yeah. We’ll talk then. I think I finally need to lay down. You know--just in case tomorrow--”

“There’s no need to worry," Byleth reassured him. "There _are_ two of us, after all.”

“Hah,” Claude puffed his chest out a little, the usual confidence Byleth was used to seeing springing up in his eyes. “You kidding? I’d have this one in the bag, with **_or_** without you. When it comes to the Monastery, _no one_ would lay a hand on Lady Rhea, _or_ the students. I’d have it covered.”

Byleth listened, neither agreeing or disagreeing. 

“But…” Claude looked pensive again, playing with the spines of books as a distraction. “...Something does tell me you’re supposed to be here, Teach. You can’t just _fake_ the kind of warmth you have.”

“Oh,” Byleth looked down, softly laughing to himself, but a slight red tone fell upon his cheeks that hadn’t been there before. “I doubt I _could_ fake it if I wanted to-- but, you’ll never catch me pulling such a stunt.”

“Ugh,” Claude groaned suddenly, grabbing his neck. “It’s unfortunate timing - the mission tomorrow. I’d love to just sit in the springs for a few hours...days, even.” 

“The 'springs?'”

“Oh, you don’t even know about them-- that well hidden, huh?” He stretched his shoulder and arms outwards. “One of the best parts of living in the mountains is that there are natural hot springs right here...not too many people use them, though, since they’re considered out of bounds. There’s a trail that goes north of here, along the Sealed Forest. I might, uh…” Claude’s speech slowed for a moment, warmth tingling against his stomach as his mind wandered. He imagined it as if it had already happened. “I might have to show you the way there some time.” 

Byleth’s expression lightened and he even allowed a half-smile to show. “Well, my muscles could certainly use the rest, but..." he started, his face going blank as he noticed a detail - a purple smudge - on Claude's skin, hidden well beneath his collar. "I suppose that'll just have to wait until a better time.”


	6. Waxing Half-Moon - Dreams of his Wild Abandon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dreams of his Wild Abandon - a passage of Intermission.

“Come away with me,” Claude said hastily, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. 

They stood just outside of the Monastery walls, where no one would see them -- he thought -- he _hoped._

Some time had passed since whenever they last talked. Not torturously long, but enough; there was that visual sense in the back of his mind of the untouchable time’s clock ticking, and this was how they’d met here to begin with.

“Are you there?” Claude asked, grabbing Byleth’s arm; he stared into Claude’s eyes, but he wasn’t seeing the same things or maybe hearing them spill out of Claude’s lips verbatim. 

“Please,” Claude begged, shaking Byleth’s arm as if he might literally grab hold of his attention just a moment longer. 

“I know you won’t stay here anyway. Something’ll happen eventually. _Anything_ could happen. No one’s power is _that_ absolute -- or _is_ yours?”

“I can’t,” Byleth responded, his eyes glowing bright but devoid of emotion. “I have to watch over the students.”

“Wha-- they’ll still be here when we come back! Byleth…” Claude trailed off, starved for air. “I don’t know if I can pretend to be like them...you might be the only thing I have convincing them to let me stay. Don’t you think we deserve more freedom?”

"None of us are free until the day of judgement.”

A heavy torrent of wings pounded the air from above. Claude flinched, prepared to brace himself, but it was just a Wyvern Rider above, higher than the treeline, casting a flicker of shadow over them in contrast with the waning moon's light.

“I don’t care; they can judge me,” Claude spat, his eyebrows lowering. “I’ve _been_ judged more than a few times, just for being born. But I know you…” Claude invested himself in Byleth’s evening eyes. “ _You’re_ different from us, and I _can’t_ hold onto you. If you don’t want those kinds of chains...then why do you allow them? Why do you _allow_ the Church of Seiros to be this travesty that judges and wants to keep people like us _separate?_ Do you _really_ think you need them, or...are you here for something else?” Claude’s breath thinned out between the frozen air and the flurry of his questions. He paused, his breaths levitating as if mirrored -- repeated in a rhythm parallel to themselves, overlapping every second. When he looked to the forest, the trees were a blur, further down past Byleth, deeper into a path so dark he lost sight of where it ended. _“Time_ ...you seem to move about life with your own individual sense of _time._ Everything...moves _differently_ for you --doesn’t it?"

“You _know_ I can’t tell you about that.” 

Claude’s fingertips numbed as the cold wove increasingly around them and up his sleeve as if poured over the stone walls of the Monastery. Under his clothes, he was warm; his lips showed some resistance to forming to the words that he wanted, but he could just barely reach them. “When will it happen? When will the judgement happen?”

Byleth’s skin shone paler than ever underneath the moonlight, pronounced by his dark hair, the black of his uniform. “I don’t know. I’m hoping it doesn’t come to that. Maybe _she_ knows something. I would ask her myself, but…”


	7. The Exalted & Exiled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude doesn't know what he's looking for, but he knows what he wants, and it could be a gift, or a curse.

_‘I gotta go see him tonight,’_ he remembered as his eyes opened. The sleep had somehow cured his body of most of his aches and pains. The soreness of his insides was still present, but there was little he could do about that...part of the reason he felt so... _dirty._ It was also why he would rather be at the hot springs than anywhere else.

Slowly moving from his bed, he emerged from his room to find the pastel sunset bathing the grounds in colour, a few student stragglers chatting down by the pond, and others who had wandered outside to enjoy the kinder weather.

Lowering his head, he wandered north through the grounds, into one of the halls. At least some things remained the same. He found he could drift somewhat carelessly, but as he neared the corridor leading to the right into the tower where Byleth was stationed, he stopped. He stared down the hallway at the arched doorway below the spiraling stone staircase. After a quick glance around the carpeted room, he found a few familiar faces - no one who was likely to interrupt him where he was going. He checked behind him once and continued on in the direction he’d been going, feeling the wind buffet his exposed ears and hands as he crossed the bridge.

As he walked towards the cathedral entrance, he eyed the guards through the slatted gates that extended on either side of him. Slowly, the cogs turned as the gates raised with a shudder, the chains inside clinking and rotating until he was able to step through. The guards; he wondered if they felt they truly had much of an identity underneath their armor; when they had no shield or lance at hand. 

He inhaled deeply as he passed them, entering into a cavernous room, curious at the silence between whispered prayer and confession. He continued through the pews and lit candelabras to the wall at the back of the room. Standing before an empty throne made of stone were him and a few others who no doubt lived within the monastery walls; monks, and who appeared to be younger students. 

Was this where he was supposed to feel the surprise of some presence visiting him? His ears tingled, the hymns that swam between the cathedral walls barely reaching him, but yet the muddled words worked almost like a sort of lullaby. Although he couldn’t help but imagine the eyes of others on him, he wasn’t there for them, and he knew this. This wasn’t the place to interrupt someone in the middle of ‘prayer,’ was it? At least...not to interrupt him. Still, he found himself wishing for somewhere more private; somewhere he could blend in a little, camouflaged as well as he could make himself disappear into the wilderness. Trying to ignore the presence of the others around him, he stood silently. Maybe if he stood there long enough, he would earn some place among the others; maybe eventually, someone would acknowledge it, but that might take years…

A metal sound as if a door creaking open on its metal hinges rang from a cornered-off room to the right. He vaguely remembered seeing that room the first time he’d been given a tour of the Monastery -- it felt like he spent all day being dragged around the grounds and its various halls, so he’d opted to branch off from Rhea and his professors to do a little exploring himself. Once they bid him permission and left, he remembered standing in that room afterwards, staring up at old statues of some Saints whose faces were like a canvas with half of the details etched in. They missed the features that made a face unique; the wide angle of one’s cheek, whiskers, not to mention the default expression in their eyes. Still living in that memory, he touched his own cheek, a flame flickering into view from the room, a man with lush green hair waving it slowly with an unmistakable studious expression across his face. He lit another torch inside of the room and returned the original one to its place, his eyes glancing up, flickering with a red glow to meet Claude’s. Claude held his breath --of course he would forget about the most _obvious_ person.

Church-goers whispered uncomfortably personal wishes or regrets to their Goddess -- disconnected parents and children living across borders-- things he knew well enough but had had to let go of some time ago, never relying on a Goddess for her to read it all out to him. Swallowing, he slowly craned his neck to look past them, to the West where the Goddess Tower stood at the end of the walkway. He felt a foolish and poorly-timed chuckle rising up from his stomach before someone seemed to furrow their brow at him, making him realize he must have appeared as goofy as he felt.

Was it wrong of him to think of something so _innocently?_ That day when Teach had made such a fuss over him...or maybe it was the fuss they’d made over each other. He recalled storming off after that, and pressed his fingers against his breastbone. He remembered the white orchid that Byleth had _pretended_ to be so fascinated by, maybe just to get close to him.

Claude snapped out of it long enough to notice Seteth had slowly made his way backwards, beyond the few pillars that lined the sides of the church.

Maybe he could beat Seteth on his way out. He bowed out of the gathering of worshipers in front of their Goddess throne, blinking past the guards closer to the bridge. Flashes of violet and fuchsia nightfall painted the skyline behind the monastery, his eyes following the horizon.

A firm hand planted itself on his shoulder. Claude thoughtlessly practiced a technique he’d used before in combat, lowering himself with his knees, ducking under and away from Seteth's grasp. He stared naively, his mouth agape. Seteth had grabbed hold of him, as Claude suspected might happen, but he didn't think it would happen like this. 

“My apologies,” Seteth said, himself looking almost surprised. “I seem to have alarmed you.”

“Uh-- no!” Claude laughed, wanting to bemoan that he didn’t possess the energy to loosen up like his usual self -- at least not for Seteth. “No…can I, uh...help you with something, Seteth? Or are you just out here enjoying the evening breeze like everyone else?” Claude’s eyebrow tensed visibly although he tried to disguise his emotions.

“I do not require anything at this time, but I couldn’t help myself from noticing your face among those gathered in the cathedral. Last I’d heard of, you were...how do I explain…?” Seteth’s eyes narrowed.

So he _did_ remember, then...it would be like him, of course. That same day he’d been shown around by Rhea, Seteth and the other two professors at the time, he hadn’t stayed alone with the Saints very long to his lonesome. Seteth had snuck up beside him in the doorway. Surprisingly, he’d never bombarded Claude with questions, and for a moment Claude had felt like maybe there _was_ a Goddess after all, but Seteth certainly view the world through the eyes of an outsider like Claude or Byleth. Neither of them had grown up somewhere so devout as the monastery, even if Byleth must’ve been exposed to it in different villages. The Alliance itself, although Claude had been introduced to it later on in life, had always been either divided or indifferent as far as Faith was concerned, no particular Faith holding stake over the lands East of Garreg Mach. He’d been so unabashedly honest back then, even telling Seteth that he’d hardly known anything of the Goddess -- and not only _that,_ but that he was unlikely to start finding out _more_ simply because he lived at the Monastery.

“Hold on-- I know what you’re gonna say. That you didn’t think I worshipped the Goddess -- right? But that doesn’t bar someone like me from…” Claude glanced nervously behind them towards the cathedral. “What I mean to say, really, is…”

“Consider walking with me,” Seteth said matter-of-factly. “I’ll take you to my office where you might not feel so strongly as if you must _hold back_ your personal views. Or, am I mistaken on exactly where you’re coming from?”

Awestruck, Claude slowly shook his head-- there was no simple response. The heavy cathedral gates creaked as they lowered to the ground, locked into place. There was definitely something else going on in Seteth’s mind -- _anything_ if it involved sounding off against what _Claude_ had to say. But...what did he have to lose? Maybe a dash of pride, but being challenged by someone like Seteth was really no different from any other day. With everyone constantly pulling the card of Claude’s ‘commoner upbringing,’ hardly a day went by without his decision-making skills coming into question.

“I’ll bite. Lead the way, _Seteth,”_ Claude said confidently, his words rolling off of his tongue with ease. He spread his arm out to suggest they walk on. “I’m sure you didn’t invite all the other Professors over just to poke _fun_ at me, after all.” 

Seteth somehow maintained the same expression the whole time as they stepped down onto the bridge, but it was tinged with a confident smirk. “Why in _all_ of Fodlan would I plan such a thing? Do I come off as someone who has the _time_ for such nonsense when I’m not tending to Lady Rhea's needs?”

“Uh-- of course not,” Claude said, masking the frantic energy of his voice with a scoff. “Weird thing to say, I guess.”

Seteth’s office smelled of dried flowers, as if an old vase had just been removed, and Claude sniffed to try to place a faint scent that he recognized, having lingered from a plate of grilled bream that Seteth enjoyed earlier on that day. The day’s fading light attracted Claude’s eyes as it cast a white glow through the layered glass window onto every surface. Claude had hoped to find some sort of curious detail about Seteth that he never would’ve noticed besides being in his office, but if there was something, perhaps it was only carried by Seteth himself.

Seteth silently stepped around to his side of the desk, thumbing a book that he'd left open there. The heavy cover broke the silence with an oppressing thud as it slammed shut.

Still, he sat patiently with a soft smile, as if he was performing some _honorable_ duty, assuming he would encounter far worse one day soon.

“I haven’t brought you here to waste your time any more than you would intentionally waste mine...however, I saw it fit in the moment to at least give you an _opportunity_ in which to share with me the things you’ve experienced in the eyes of the Church.” 

“The eyes of the church?” Claude asked, his shoulders tensing a little, never seeming to get fully comfortable in his chair, his hands glued to the rounded edges of the armrests.

“Odd as though it may be, Claude, I witnessed you mere moments ago, standing within the walls of a place most infamously religious - serving as the steeple of all things Holy in Seiros-- and _sacred_ to Fodlan.”

“Hah…” Claude laughed softly. “Yeah, you’re right. When you put it that way…”

“Have you come to accept her into your very being? Or do you merely seek guidance - wisdom, so to speak - where perhaps you have developed a waking desire to understand it?”

“It’s...hmmm. You know, Seteth, whatever it is that all of you seem to possess so easily, this is one thing I’ll admit it does _not_ come all that naturally to me. Trust me, I _want_ to understand it the way someone like you-- someone _faithful_ \-- can understand it. I would like to see it through a believer’s eyes, were it that easy, but I just…” 

“If it doesn’t look like faith to you, then I should ask you if there's anything it _does_ closely resemble?” Seteth asked. He sat back patiently in his armchair, fingers resting on his abdomen.

“Huh?” Claude blinked, looking as if he'd fallen out of a cloud in the sky.

“If you would, kindly help me by describing what this belief-- or these _many_ beliefs -- look like from _your_ perspective.”

“Well, that’s uh, that’s _a lot._ Well, I guess you could say...these strange things have been coming up that I never anticipated... _would,_ you know?” He stared into the professor’s eyes, but Seteth's pale green ones maintained their unfaltering gaze. Claude flicked his hair out of his eyes distractingly-- maybe if he just kept _talking_ everything would be fine --they had to get somewhere _eventually._ “I mean, sure, I figured there was a _small_ chance these problems would come knocking one day, but... strangely enough, I think being _here_ at the Monastery has forced me to look at these parts of myself more _...close up_ …” Claude’s lips paused mid-sentence as he realized again he might have gone too far. “Sorry, I, uh, hah," he chuckled under his breath. "I’m completely rambling.” 

“As I believe I said before, you couldn't possibly waste a moment of my time - that is, so long as you wish to be here.” He motioned at Claude patiently with one hand. “Please -- continue.”

“Have you ever...felt like that, Seteth? About being here? I mean, you’ve taught in the Monastery for, what-- your **_entire life?_** ” Claude lowered his chin near to his chest, wondering if he sounded as tangled up as he felt, his cheeks growing unexpectedly warm.

“I have indeed found it necessary to confront the more 'unloved' sides of myself, especially following the death of certain family members, but admittedly, my own improvements have gained less importance in my life, considering I have always favored owing my time to the Monastery, exactly as you yourself have noticed. That is not to say that I _disregard_ the side of myself that we all experience as our 'shadow,' but yes, other matters have evolved to earn _far_ more of my devotion.” 

“But...but that's how it feels. Like this one part of me is reserved for something outside of me - out of my control, even. It’s like...someone's _reigned_ the way I think so strongly that I don’t even know if I'll ever go back to _‘normal.’_ I can’t seem to get away from this nagging feeling, like all this time I’ve cheated or straight up _lied_ to myself.”

Seteth's breath whistled slowly from out of his nose as he exhaled. “Just so that we don’t lose _focus,_ there _is_ something that I must ask you. Myself and many others practice a strong foundation in the simple act of prayer - an act that, as intimate as it may be, I can’t help but wonder if it struck any particular _emotion_ as you stood in the cathedral. Even as a non-believer such as yourself, I would be curious to hear if being present has made any influence on better understanding the process of your perceived helplessness.” 

“I-I guess I could feel something...maybe for a moment. But, that’s just it-- the first time I _did_ feel something like that, it was _far_ from the church. I feel like lately, someone out there, as bizarre as it may sound, might be listening. Whether or not they want to hear what someone like _me_ has to say-- well, hah, _that's_ hard to imagine.”

“Please elaborate.” 

“Some _feelings_ \--even the _dreams_ I've had lately, brought me back to this sense of dread that _everything_ I’ve done lately is just... _wrong.”_ Claude’s chest felt heavy, sweat sticking to him beneath his overcoat, his palms unconsciously balled into fists against his legs. 

“And these _decisions_ you've made-- you wouldn’t happen to be referring to deeds the Church typically considers _sinful?”_

“Maybe...if I knew more about this...this... _faith._ It’s so rare to even find it in books, that I--” 

Claude wasn’t noticing Seteth’s pointed, shark-like stare. He'd smelled blood in the water and now he knew without a doubt the exact wound that had opened up. “And would this deed happen to have involved someone _both_ of us know by name?” 

Claude could feel his throat closing up, a wave of heat swarming his face. "Well, _yes._ Who else? _"_ He gripped the armrest on his chair, the skin over his knuckles turning white, hoping to calm his trembling as his nose began to run and the corners of his eyes burned in a cruel release of tears. He could barely see Seteth through the blur, his mind having leapt in a million directions -- but the pain gouging through him remained the same -- he was supposed to just _'get over'_ him?

“And the lover in question -- a _male,_ I presume?”

“Well--isn't it damn _obvious_?!” Claude shouted as he stood so quickly that he nearly tumbled over his chair. The muscles of his neck pulsed, his heartbeat racing, just as erratic as his breath, staring Seteth down with an unprovoked summon to fight in his eyes.

Seteth stood slowly, the colourless light behind painting him far more _pure_ than he was -- but Claude recognized it instantly, the gradual acceptance --as if he knew _everything_ \-- his gaze turning in a way he imagined someone would look at him if they only _knew_ half of the chaos that was his mind.

“But you--you _made_ me say that. In fact-- I never said _anything._ Do you _really_ think anyone else would _believe_ you, anyway?”

“So, you **_and_ ** the Professor then.”

He could’ve slammed Seteth up against the damned window-- he would be _easy_ to get dirt on with just a little digging _._ He was lucky Claude didn’t tear his office apart right then _._ Huffing out a sudden breath that had been festering in his chest, Claude’s prowling gaze stuck to Seteth's face a moment longer as if he might forget how _punchable_ it was. But what would _Byleth_ have to say about all this? If he found out-- **when** he found out. _  
_

Claude stumbled backwards into the doorway. "You only _think_ you know what you're talking about..."

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all, thank you again so much for waiting, reading, supporting, in whatever form. Comments are always appreciated <3 It took a lot for me to get this typed out for some reason (it just felt like it took so much energy at times? And looking at it, it looks like slightly wall-of-text syndrome, but I really do hope it didn't -feel- like that from the reader's perspective (I also just hope it wasn't confusing, the intermission passage but I guess we'll see lol - things I could only get away with in fanfic or graphic novels.) 
> 
> Hope you are all well continuing into this month & thanks again for your support! Be back soon.

**Author's Note:**

> https://twitter.com/lutherlocksweil  
> https://mirrortheheart.tumblr.com


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